He stops—stops when he should keep moving. Stops in a way that practically pins him against me. His eyes searching my face in a way that never fails to send an immediate flood of calm through my system—the first calm I’ve felt in—days. Not since before I left Summerland. After Summerland, all I could think about was Ava and how she managed to con her way in. And even though it only lasts a few seconds, even though he soon moves past me and onto the stool, the impact, the calming charge of his presence still lingers.
“She’s either applying herself in a really big
way or she’s got a real knack for magick,” he says, grabbing the box of receipts with two of his good fingers and awkwardly flipping through it. “Seems pretty single-minded though, so my guess is the former.”
I squint, trying to recall what I know about Honor, but other than her position as Craig’s girlfriend and Stacia’s disgruntled BFF, it’s not much.
I look at Jude, wondering if I should tell him that from what I saw that day when I peeked inside her head that Honor’s intentions aren’t all that—honorable. But it’s not like Stacia’s ever done me (or anyone else for that matter) any favors, so who am I to get involved?
“So, what time does class start?” I ask, deciding to stick to the practical as I make my way toward the back room.
“In an hour. Why?” He glances over his shoulder.
“I’ll be in the back until you need me,” I say, slinking into the office and shutting the door behind me. Retrieving The Book from its hiding place and slapping it onto the old wood desk. Taking a moment for a few deep, cleansing breaths before I hunch over it, tracing my fingers across the elaborate gold inscription on its front, debating whether or not I should do this.
The last time I visited this tome, things didn’t go so well. And now that I know about Roman’s connection to it—well, I’m no longer sure I can trust it. Because if he really is responsible for it ending up in my hands, then my reading it now would only make me (yet again!) a pawn in his plans. But then, if he does have influence over these pages, then maybe there’s a clue buried somewhere, a clue as to how this game ends or how he plans to win.
Maybe, just like the akashic records in Summerland, it’s all about asking the right kind of questions.
But while the akashic records permits only the worthy within its grand halls, The Book of Shadows only requires a code, followed by a coded question, preferably in rhyme.
So after softly chanting the rhyme Romy and Rayne taught me:
Within the world of magick—resides this very tome
To which I am the chosen—returning to my home
Within the realm of mystics—I shall now reside
Allowed to glimpse upon this book—and see what lies inside.
I sit there, feverishly trying to come up with a clever rhyming question to crack Roman’s code—but my mind remains blank and The Book just sits there, its pages refusing to reveal anything new.
I sigh and lean back in my seat, swiveling from side to side as I take in the room, the various pictures and totems that line the walls, the myriad books piled onto the shelves, a room overflowing with so much potential, holding all the necessary ingredients for all manner of magical spells, and yet none of it inspires me, none of it offers any kind of help. And the truth is, there’s no more time to waste. Summer is fading fast and I need to come up with a solution since there’s no way I can keep avoiding Damen.
Damen.
I press my hands to my face, determined to keep the tears at bay. Forcing that salty sting back down my throat.
I haven’t seen him since the day of Miles’s party when I jumped out of his car and went to Summerland. Haven’t answered his calls. Haven’t answered the door. Have barely acknowledged the numerous bouquets of red tulips that now fill up my room. Knowing I don’t deserve them—don’t deserve him—until I can find a way to work this all out—find a way to ask for his help—or even find a way to ask Jude to ask him. But every time I start, the beast interferes—refusing to allow anything to come between Roman and me. And the truth is, I know I’m not just running out of time but running out of places to look. Jude’s search has resulted in nothing, and everything I’ve tried so far has resulted in a complete and utter failure. And if last night is any indication, it’s only getting worse.
I opened my eyes to a darkened room, the thick coastal fog refusing even the vaguest sliver of moonlight to creep through. But still, I slipped out of bed and out of the house, my feet bare, clad only in a sheer cotton nightgown, with only one destination in mind. Drawn to Roman’s house like a sleepwalker—like one of Dracula’s overeager brides.
Moving quickly, effortlessly, through the quiet, empty streets, stopping just outside his window, as I crouched down low and peered through the gap in his blinds. Immediately sensing her presence, knowing she was in there—somewhere—enjoying the one thing that is meant to be mine.
My mind spinning, reeling, as my body ached with unsatisfied hunger and need. The beast raging inside me, urging me to stop thinking and get moving—just break down the door and eliminate her already. And I was just about to do it, just about to make a move, when she sensed me too. Storming toward the window with a gaze so hardened, so menacing, it was a brief slap of sanity—a reminder of who I am—who she is—and what we stand to lose if I allow the beast to win.
And before I had a chance to rethink it, I ran. All the way home and back to my bed, where I lay sweating, shaking, doing my best to quell the overwhelming need—to extinguish the dark flame inside me.
A flame that burns brighter, hotter, stronger each day.
A fire so insatiable it’ll consume everything in its path—my small glimmer of sanity—my fragile connection to the future I want—and anything else that stands between Roman and me.
And just before I finally drifted off, I realized the worst part of all—by the time all that happens I’ll be so far gone, I won’t even realize my fall.
_______
Jude enters the room and drops onto the seat—purposefully, meaningfully, clearly wanting to be seen.